Black Licorice
by Laylania
Summary: I had never known what it would taste like, only that I craved it. And as my fangs sank into his neck, all I could taste was black licorice. oc/undecided


**Authoress Notes:** Yes, I know it's another story in which there's an original character. This one, however, I'm not sure if I'll pair with anyone. If there's anyone you would like 'her' to be paired with, please let me know. If not, that's perfectly fine. Not sure where this came from, though I'm pretty sure it had to do with _Dracula_ and _Interview with the Vampire_, which I watched yesterday and today respectively. Bela Lugosi was _fantastic_ as Dracula.

**Claim: **I own Blaire.

**Disclaim: **I don't own Vampire Knight.

-_Black Licorice-_

The crimson line matched its scarred replicas as I retracted the blade, eyeing my handiwork. It beaded bright red, slipping around my wrist to drip into the sink. Reaching for a wad of paper towel, I dabbed the laceration and watched as the bleeding began to slow and clot. It was a ritual I had repeated several times, and even though I knew that a slip of the fingers could end my life, I continued to do it.

If anyone asked, I wouldn't be able to tell them why. Not because I didn't want to, but because there wasn't a solid reason for it. I believed it to be something psychological, buried deep in my subconscious. Compelling me to spill my blood because - and there the reasoning would stop, because I couldn't explain it. Because it felt good?

The first cut had been the worst, and I had begun crying afterward, horrified and ashamed by what I had done. Too ashamed to tell anyone, to get help. Perhaps if I had done so then, it wouldn't be where it was now. The pain had begun to subside after that, and soon I found myself with two cuts, and then three, and so on. I wasn't sure what it was - perhaps a release of endorphins? - but it became a rush, a rush I couldn't escape.

That rush was what fueled whatever lay deep inside me, feeding _it_. Soothing _it_.

Time and time again I had told myself that it had to stop, that I needed to stop feeding _it. It,_ the compulsion that I had begun calling the _monster._ But this monster wasn't like the ones that I had imagined in my childhood, the ones that lurked underneath my bed. This one was very real, but no one but myself knew of it. And so therefore, no one but I could face this monster.

Knocking drew me from my thoughts and I jolted, pulling away from where I had been leaning towards the mirror. A voice joined the knocking, high with irritation. "Blaire! Whatever you're doing, hurry up!"

Alexa, my roommate.

I turned my attention back to the mirror, and then to the cut. The bleeding had stopped, and I pulled down my sleeve, throwing the blade into a lower drawer and flushing the bloody paper towel. Hiding the evidence that I had fed the monster. Pulling the door open, my brown-haired roommate eyed me. "Are you really wearing that?"

I looked down at my jeans, the faded fabric ready to tear at the knees, the hem of my shirt touching my thighs. I glanced back up at her. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Not that I cared what she had to say, but her fashion assessments were always funny. Alexa pursed her lips.

"Oh, nothing," she replied airily, flicking a manicured hand. "If you want to look like a homeless woman, that is."

"Sounds just fine," I answered, shrugging as I moved for my bed. The slamming of the bathroom door made me grin. My disregard for the newest fashions irritated Alexa, and I tried to do so as often as possible. It wasn't that she hated me or I hated her, but a way of getting along. I dug through the bag on my bed, finding my cellphone buried underneath a handful of skittles that I had spilt sometime ago.

_-Two new messages-,_ the screen said, and I opened them, reading through them with a smile that grew. Andrew, my best of few friends, had take liberty to text me in his usual fashion.

-_Hey babe,-_ it read, _-meet at usual spot?-_

I texted a swift reply and then moved my attention to the other text. This one was not from Andrew, but still a number I recognized. Reading through it, the smile that had been on my lips faded. It was another from my mother, apologizing and telling me that she wouldn't be able to make it home for the holiday that was fast approaching.

Though I didn't hate my mother, I was always irritated when she cancelled on me. It wasn't that she didn't love or care for me, but her job as a biologist seemed to take priority. I turned off my phone and pushed it into my pocket, throwing my hair into a low bun before departing.

The campus courtyard wasn't far from the dormitory, and I found Andrew leaning against an oak tree, playing Pac Man on his cellphone. It beeped, and he sighed gloomily. "Lost again." Looking up as he tucked his phone away, he pushed auburn bangs from his eyes. "Hey."

"Howdy," I answered, giving him a two finger salute before stepping next to him. His arm slid around my shoulders, and I rested my head on his shoulder.

"Your mom cancel on you again?" I looked up, and blue-green eyes met mine. "It's written all over your face, babe."

"Yeah," I sighed, arms folding over my chest. "She does this all the time, but I can't get mad at her."

"She's your mom," he replied, and I wrapped my arms around his abdomen, snuggling into his side. Like usual, he smelt of cinnamon and some other spice, a scent that I had grown used to. Though he gave off the vibe of being a trouble-maker, he was a complete sweetheart who got straight A's. Andrew's head tilted to rest against mine, and I closed my eyes.

A bell chimed in the distance, interrupting the quiet moment that we'd been sharing. Pulling away, I shared a look with my companion. "School announcement," Andrew said, and held out his hand for me to take. "C'mon."

Taking it, I followed him across the courtyard to the stone hallway that lead to many of the classrooms. The school had once been a church, and though it hadn't been active for years, there was still a working bell that was used for school announcements. There was the crackle of the PA system before a woman cleared her throat and began to speak.

"Curfew has been moved to ten o'clock to study for exams. Tomorrow's-" I began to zone out as I usually did, though I was yanked back to reality by Andrew's hand tightening around mine as my name was called. "Blaire Williams, please report to the Headmistress' office immediately. Again, Blaire Williams, report to the Headmistress' office immediately."

The PA system crackled and fell silent, and I shared a look with Andrew.

What did the Headmistress want with me?


End file.
